9. Gabby

Gabby tugs at the scarf across her face, pulling it further up the bridge of her nose as she and Colt navigate the streets of the bazaar. The subterranean market is a labyrinth of winding alleys, flickering torches, and an eclectic blend of supernatural beings from various corners of the world. Beside her, Colt's swathed in the same disguise—flowing robes that cover his body, a headscarf that shows nothing but his eyes.

When he first put it on, she lamented being unable to appreciate his honed physique. But then she saw his dark eyes framed by black material and her heart stuttered. They were a hundred times more mesmerizing. It reminded her of the first time she saw him outside the gates of Mercy Academy. She'd been determined to be angry. To hate him. She sensed they were different.

Yet one look from those eyes, and her entire axis of gravity shifted.

She had a new sun to orbit.

A dark, sexy one.

Someone jostles Gabby from behind and Colt instinctively pulls her closer. Snapping out of her thoughts, she focuses back on her surroundings. The auction is being held in the center of the underground bazaar, and it seems everyone in the city is streaming toward it.

They allow the tide of people to draw them along, keeping their gazes low and disguises firmly in place. Kenna was quite proud of them, saying the swathes of fabric, along with the awful-tasting potion she provided to disguise their auras, would be everything they need.

No one would know that the angel and demon who have been wreaking havoc on the cult are amongst them.

The streets widen as the colorful shops and stands fall away, opening to high stone walls on either side of a large, cobbled area. The whole place still feels oppressive, but that may be the feet of soil above them. Or the danger that's pulsing all around them. Someone rushes past Gabby, and she slides a glance as her hand wraps around the backpack she now has strapped to her front. Looking like she's gained several pounds only adds to her disguise. The man in a rich, purple turban continues past, barely glancing at her.

Which is just the way she'd like it.

Unobtrusive is what she and Colt need to be. Invisible.

Until they start bidding.

Then they practically have a blank check thanks to Kenna and the Order so they can rescue Asher.

Not for the first time, Gabby wonders who Asher is and why he's so important. Not only are the cult using the obsidian to hold him, but Kenna traveled all the way to the Lost City to free him. Gabby's intent is to find out.

The crowd dissipates as the space opens out, and the sight that greets them is both fascinating and unsettling. Gabby discovers they're in a large square, a wooden platform erected in the middle. Mystical artifacts and peculiar creatures are on display at stalls and in cages. The bazaar is like a crossroads of the supernatural, a place where beings from different realms and dimensions converge.

The centerpiece is the raised platform, adorned with ancient symbols, clearly waiting for the supernatural auction to commence. The crowd mills around, a patchwork of color and cloth, perusing the mystical items, powerful relics, and even sentient beings brought forth for bidding.

It feels archaic and cruel. Gabby suppresses a shudder. Probably because it is.

She and Colt blend with the crowd, remaining at the back and close to a stone wall. People murmur among themselves, the sense of excitement palpable.

"Going to bid big and get me a shifter for the fighting circles…"

"…hopefully I can grab a bargain."

"I hear they have a dangerous one, too."

It's the final comment that has Colt stiffening. There's no doubt it's a reference to Asher. And if he's dangerous, no wonder they're using the obsidian shard to contain him.

Just as Gabby finishes the thought, she sees him. Feels it. Asher. The undeniable power of the obsidian.

He's trapped by it, the cage holding him captive. He looks like an ordinary man, brown hair, average height, but the vessel containing him says otherwise. The iridescent surface of the cage shimmers with an unsettling aura. Its structure seems to pulse with an eerie energy, the bars throbbing in dark, intricate patterns that seem to writhe and shift, containing its contents with insidious totality.

Gabby's gaze is drawn away as a sinister being shrouded in shadows steps onto the platform, the gnarled walking stick it carries looking more concrete than it. The crowd is already falling silent, but one sharp crack of the stick and the very air is rendered mute.

"Our first item," it says in a hoarse whisper that reaches every corner.

A cage is carried up to the platform by several men wearing nothing but loin cloths. They place it down and leave, never glancing at the being inside. The man looks like he used to be strong, but now his hair's disheveled, his clothes tattered, his eyes dim and haunted.

"A shifter," the auctioneer hisses. "With the power to take the form of whatever animal it pleases. A fine specimen for those who like to bet on the fights. Do I have an opening bid?"

Calls ring out and within minutes, the shifter is sold. Gabby's chest is so tight she finds she's rubbing it. This is wrong, yet there's nothing she can do.

The weak are bartered and sold.

The strong decide what's bought and sold.

The obsidian's voice is almost welcome in this cruel auction. It means she's not quite so helpless…

Colt's hand wraps around hers, warm and reassuring. "Without the obsidian, these markets aren't possible."

Gabby stills, realizing he's right. That he just gave her hope. That she just listened to the obsidian…

There is no light without dark.

There is no world without the obsidian.

The sharp crack of the walking stick hitting the wooden platform snaps through the bazaar. "Sold," the auctioneer sneers.

The next artifact is brought as the shifter is taken away. A glistening, radiant amulet is sold to the highest bidder. A gargoyle is next. A black mask with the ability to change a person's appearance to whatever they want follows.

With each time, the tension in the air grows. Tightens. Sticks in Gabby's throat.

And then only one item is left.

The auctioneer gestures to the cage, which isn't carried onto the platform like the others. "Beings of the three realms, our final item. Asher, so powerful and dangerous he must be kept in a cage powered by the obsidian." It's cowled, shadowed face scans the crowd. "Are you willing for such a threat to fall in the hands of your enemy?"

Whispers and murmurs filter through the crowd. The chance to possess something so powerful, even as it's unknown, is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Bidding is going to be fierce.

"Do I have an opening bid?" the auctioneer hisses, although it's clearly a rhetorical question.

A number is thrown out, already higher than Gabby expected, followed by a quick counter-bid. More bids are shouted. The air crackles with greed and excitement.

"Wait," Colt murmurs. "We must be patient."

"I double it!" someone calls out.

Gabby glances to her left, recognizing the man in the purple turban who bumped into her. He looks rich. And determined.

He'll still lose.

Several bidders slump, clearly out of the game.

A woman whose hair is so long it brushes the cobblestone bids again. The man doesn't glance at her.

"Double it."

The woman curses and crosses her arms. She's dropped out.

The auctioneer raises its wooden stick. "Final call…"

Gabby steps forward. "I raise you!"

Purple Turban's shoulders stiffens. "Double it," he states flatly.

"I raise you," Gabby states just as flatly, doing the math in her head. Their blank check isn't limitless. They're getting close to what Kenna said the Order can fund.

If Purple Turban doubles it…

Purple Turban turns slowly, his blue eyes snapping to Gabby. He glares at her, then does something far more disturbing. His eyes widen.

As if he recognizes her, despite the magical and physical disguises.

Colt subtly moves forward, muttering an incantation under his breath. Purple Turban opens his mouth, either to double the bid, or to expose them, only for it to snap shut. His eyes widen even further, the muscles of his face twitching, but his mouth doesn't open.

Colt's magically sealed it shut.

"Last call," the auctioneer calls in their raspy voice.

Gabby holds her breath. It feels like the whole bazaar is held in suspended animation.

No one bids.

Silence.

"Sold," the auctioneer hisses, slamming down the walking stick.

Crack. The deal is sealed. They just bought Asher.

Gabby's breath whooshes out so fast, her head spins. The bazaar bursts into sound and movement, several people turning to look at the person who just purchased what's no doubt the most expensive being trafficked in these awful auctions.

"Come on," Gabby says, tugging on Colt's hand.

He follows without question, even when she draws him along the wall in the opposite direction of Asher and the obsidian cage. It's going to take time to process the payment, and she'd rather do that once everyone has collected their trafficked, illegal wares.

Which gives them time to find out who Purple Turban is and why he wanted Asher so bad.

His headwear is easily spotted in the crowd, meaning Gabby and Colt spot him as he takes a sharp turn into a nearby alleyway.

"Oh, no you don't," Gabby mutters, walking faster as they weave through the men and women.

She and Colt are almost jogging, jostling people who grumble and grouch, but don't seem surprised by the rudeness. They turn into the alley just as Purple Turban is about to disappear down another labyrinthine street.

Gabby hisses an incantation and a stack of wooden crates crash down, blocking his way. To her surprise, Purple Turban doesn't run. In fact, he turns to face them, a look of challenge on his face.

On a face that's morphing. Changing.

And glows with angelic essence by the time they reach him.

The man inclines his head with a gentle smile. "I am Nathaniel," he says, his voice low and soothing. "I come in the name of Gabriel, the archangel. I have been sent to recover Asher."

Gabby stiffens at the mention of her father"s name. "Gabriel," she repeats, conscious that Colt's also gone still. "I am Gabriel"s daughter. What does my father want with Asher?"

Nathaniel nods. "Yes, I recognized you."

"What does Gabriel want this Asher?" Colt growls, the willingness to be patient probably demolished the moment he discovered Nathaniel's connected to Gabby's father.

Nathaniel doesn't take his gaze from Gabby, ignoring the demon. "Your father believes that Asher may possess valuable information," he explains. "Information regarding the Grigori and their plans."

"What kind of information?" Colt asks, his voice hard.

Nathaniel doesn't answer. Doesn't take his gaze from Gabby as he waits.

She stares back, acknowledging that Asher was never their target. His cage is. She nods sharply. "Asher is yours if he freely shares the information he carries."

Or he'll be dead.

Gabby ignores the obsidian even as a rush of power pulses through her veins. Nathan inclines his head. "I'm sure he will," he murmurs.

"Yes, because angels are known for keeping their word," Colt mutters.

Gabby places her hand on his arm, understanding his distrust, but conscious they need to work together. Her father"s involvement in this mission is a reminder that celestial and infernal forces are deeply entwined with the fate of the world.

They're going to need all the help they can get to defeat the Grigori.

No, we won't.

You are destined to destroy them.

And rule the world.